Do You Want To Play?
by LibraMoon
Summary: Changed to a series of one shots per multiple reader requests. Ratings Vary. China is masculine in these. Be advised, no offense meant. ChinaxFem!America.
1. Chapter 1

_**For Dewi111, a faithful reviewer who requested a ChinaxFemAmerica one shot. This is based off a true occurrence. That's right. You read that. **_

_**Rated T for implication. I own nothing. **_

OoOoOo

**1971**

China was a nation that watched the world with shrewd eyes and years of wisdom under his belt. He had been around for much longer than most nations and often times it caused him some distress. The world had changed so much, that he felt his place in it was often in jeopardy in some fashion.

He was a nation that did not waste time, but felt it was important to remain healthy all at once.

Some said that he could be provoked easily, and yes there were times where that was true, however, he had a sense of dignity about him. There was a sense of cultural refinement brought about by thousands of years of his people's high morals and traditions.

Therefore, it was not that other countries irritated him, so much as they unintentionally slighted him. One could only deal with so much harassment without becoming understandably angry.

Though Russia and he has split in their alliances somewhat, China still felt a sense of trust for his neighboring country. That same trust was not extended to all the other nations. Not precisely. He kept mostly to himself.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

China looked around, not placing the sound. His dark eyes looked curiously toward the hallway.

_Tap. Stomp. Tap. Tap. Stomp._

What was that sound? He curiously strode toward the hall. The tapping continued as he wandered further down. It did not take him long to find the recreation room.

There he saw the familiar blonde nation, the very one that often tried to start diplomatic relations with him, and failed every time.

America.

He watched her curiously as she stood in front of a 'tennis' table. In her hand was a paddle. In the other, a ping pong ball. One half of the table was folded upward so that it provided something for the ball to bounce against.

She started to play against herself once more.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

China watched her as she moved in a soft sort of steady rhythm. After a few moments, she felt his eyes on her and turned.

Brown eyes met surprised blue ones.

"Oh..." She said, clearly not expecting him, "Hi China."

"America," he replied courteously enough.

She did not seem inclined to continue speaking with him. She put the ball and paddle down.

"You play ping pong?" China asked mulling over the fact that America of all nations enjoyed the sport.

Yes, it was a sport, no matter what Japan said.

"Yeah," America replied happily. She offered him the second paddle. "You want to play? I can take down the other side and we can go head to head."

Her blue eyes landed on him and China was surprised by the warmth and sincerity there. Most countries did not consider America to be sincere at all, for she constantly asked 'How are you?' but never stayed for the five to ten minutes needed for a proper reply.

She was... strange. China did not like that about her. She was, in many respects, too similar to him. China wanted what he wanted, when he wanted it. America had the habit of feeling that way as well.

So it was not unexpected that they clashed now and then.

He glanced at the paddle as if it were an offensive object and turned his head slightly.

"No," he replied bluntly. Russia had warned him it was best to deal with America in straight terms. So as not to allow confusion.

"Oh," she said, and lowered the paddle. Her smile dimmed and she nodded. "Some other time then?"

He did not reply, choosing instead to take his leave. Her words trailed after him as he pondered what harm a simple game could have done.

However, it was with America... who knew what that nation was plotting.

OoOoOo

She was sitting in the cafeteria, chatting with Canada -her largest trade partner- when China walked in.

His dark eyes sought her out, and the look of determination on his face was something that gave everyone pause. China approached her table and noticed that America was watching him warily. It was to be expected, they were not on very friendly terms.

He stood near her, his voice imperialistic as he looked down at her.

"I invite you to play at my home." He declared.

The blonde nation blinked and stared at him quizzically.

"What?"

"Ping-pong," China said, drawing himself up to his full height. "I invite you to play ping-pong at my home."

America paused, looking at him. Her blue eyes trying to discern his motives. China waited, fully prepared to be turned down and thus would begin the next few years of winning each other's favor.

"Okay." She said simply.

China blinked, his eyes widening before he quickly hid his surprise. America had agreed? Just like that? Well, he supposed she had been trying to decades to actually have diplomatic relations.

Still, he could not help but think that Westerners were so... _easy._

Canada glanced between them with a calculating look, and America sent him a glance. China knew that they were communicating something.

"Yes, well... good." China replied decisively. "When will you be coming?"

"When do you want me there?' She asked, leaving the details up to him.

He pondered that. What would be a good day? One that would not herald an inauspicious start? China sorted through the days. Ah... yes, that day would be a good omen.

"April 6th." He declared

America looked at him confused. "That's today."

China blinked, flushing slightly.

""Then the 10th," he snapped angrily. "I will pay for the trip. Since I am inviting you, and have manners befitting a country."

It was a small jab at her, but she seemed unfazed by it.

America grinned, clearly delighted. "Alright! I will be there."

China huffed. Of course she would be. This was the first time since 1949 he was going to allow America anywhere near his soils. He gave a quick bow, and left.

OoOoOo

True to her word, America showed up. She was joy personified, it appeared by her exuberant expression. She actually let China do all of the talking as he led her across the Hong Kong bridge to the Chinese mainland.

Her blue eyes widened as she took in every aspect of his home. She seemed to adore his culture instantly. The deep reds, and bright golds had her attention, and she lingered on his architecture. China was extremely proud of his people's accomplishments, and it showed.

His chest was puffed out in pride, and he noticed that America looked at him as well. She should though, he was a country deserving of respect and admiration.

Perhaps, it was not so truly horrible to have America around him. China cast such notions aside, it was far too early to be thinking such things. it would be years, at least, until he would contemplate if it was safe to trust her. However, the journey of one thousand miles began with a single step.

America had already taken one toward him. He had taken one toward her in return.

China led her to where they would play. The paddles ready on opposite ends of the table. America smiled widely and shrugged off her jacket, placing it delicately on a nearby chair. China adjusted his clothes, so that he would not be inhibited by them as he faced off against America.

They wasted no time. China allowed her to serve, and soon they fell into a rhythm of competing against each other. It was strangely comfortable, how they moved tandem. China could not take his eyes off of her in that moment.

America was watching him as well. Then they both focused on the ball.

Each sound of the ping pong hitting the table was soothing. Each time America returned the ball, China felt invigorated by her effort. They were in balance, opposite ends of a cultural spectrum simply... having fun.

They played over a course of days, from the 11th to the 17th. America played, and lost, to China. He was a gracious winner and allowed her to tour the Great wall and the Summer Palace. She had been delighted, laughing and carefree. Her excitement bled over into him and China even found himself smiling at her a few times.

When he took her to the Cantonese ballet, she nearly had tears in her eyes, she was so moved by their stunning performance. She complimented his art and his people, and he agreed with her that they were inspiring.

Time flew by and before he knew it, America's stay had ended.

China found that he was saddened the day she was to leave. America smiled at him widely, thanking him for all that he'd shown her. He watched her go. His dark eyes trailed her form and he felt something stir within his chest.

A few days later, _Time_ magazine called it "The ping heard around the world."

Nothing had happened between them, officially, however, China thought that one day...one day...

Something could.

OoOoOo

**2014**

Years have passed since that day. China had become the second largest economy. and America's largest creditor. Their relations had noticeably improved, all thanks to a few games of ping pong. Yet, they are not where China secretly hoped they would be. America still clung to Japan tighter than China.

Though she buys many of his exports and often tries to side with him in meetings if it does not directly conflict with another ally.

He finds the whole game of politics exhilarating and exhausting all at once. China was off to yet another meeting, discussing even more affairs that simply had to be taken care of this instant. He was an extremely busy country.

So when America grabs his suit and hauls him into the recreation room, China sputtered angrily.

"Get your hands off me! What do you think you are doing?"

The blonde nation shushes him with a finger to her lips. Her smiled like the cat that ate cream. She points to a nearby table. China's dark eyes appraise the two paddles and the ping pong ball lying in at the left side of the table.

"No," he says, already guessing where this is going.

"Oh come on," she says sweetly, "play with me."

"You are such a child sometimes," he huffs, straightening his tie.

America grins, and watches him un-offended. "Maybe, but everyone needs a moment to unwind. Just like the old days."

She hints back to their unusual start to true diplomatic relations.

China blushes slightly.

"I am very busy," he tries to deflect. He honestly was. There was always something that needed his attention.

"What?" She asks slyly, "You haven't forgotten how to play, have you?"

"Of course not!" China growls slightly, storming to the table and grabbing the nearest paddle. "I can still best you any day!"

She laughs, delighted with him and that same warmth is in her eyes. The one he admires, but will never admit to.

"Well then, come at me!" She calls teasingly and China nods seriously.

With the first serve, their whole hearts are in the game. They bounce the ball back and forth with fierce slaps and their bodies move in time with the mock 'battle' on the table. They fall back into that rhythm. The lull of going head to head and the thrill of a challenge.

The matters of the world fall away. Her nations debt to him. His nation wanting to be the best at everything and succeeding on many levels. It doesn't matter that they are both late to important meetings, or the fact that their paperwork remains unfinished. It doesn't matter that they miss flights and phone calls.

It is simply China and America.

Two nations, enjoying each other and not wanting to separate just yet. Hearts filled with happiness and mutual regard.

It is only them... communicating.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Turned into a one-shot series. I seem to get a lot of requests for those...**_

_**Thanks for reading everyone! This is a oneshot requested by Flawsinthisworld for China to be America's "Sugar Daddy".**_

_**Also, a guest reviewer suggested 'Prostitute' America. **_

_**Ladies and Gentlemen... I'll do it. I will combine them both. I am slightly curious as to why everyone wants America to be cast in such... interesting lights. However, to each their own. **_

_**As requested. **_

_**Rated T-Implication.**_

OoOoOo

There came a point in every nation's history where the bad outweighed the good. Sometimes, if the nation were fortunate, it happened only once. Other times, if they were like America, it repeated itself and left her humbled once more.

It was not a revolution this time. It was not her people tearing themselves apart in Civil war. It wasn't a 'Great Depression' where he people starved by valley, mountains, and sea shores.

This time, though, it was very fiscally related, and the time had come to pay back what she had borrowed to continue forward. What her nation had needed of her.

In short, America owed China a great deal of money.

The number only grew higher as time and inflation worked their wicked magic. It was a painful sight to see and more than once she'd fought the panic that threatened to suffocate her. So much so, that it made her blanch to even think about it. At all. She had to steal a moment to breathe every now and then.

Terror, the likes of which she'd only ever known against insurmountable odds stole into her every waking thought. It was not only her that suffered. Not by far. America was forced to watch and feel the nearly tangible worry of her citizens. Children that went to bed at night with empty bellies while parents, equally hungry, feared over how to pay for the roof over their heads.

Desperate bright eyed students that could not find jobs with their shiny new degrees and even larger shiny chains of student loan debt.

She was floundering, and her people were drowning in a downward spiral of overspending. Her own government could not seem to curb its outrageous 'budget'. It was a joke. Yet, they did not listen to her. They raised the debt ceiling instead of fixing anything.

No matter how hard she yelled and pleaded. The lobbyists had their hands in deep and powerful pockets. The sides of her government were too busy fighting each other to notice that their culture was growing rapidly more unbalanced.

Politicians touted large lies. They spat in the faces of her citizens and then had the nerve to stare blandly back and claim it was 'raining'. Her citizens clamored for recalls, impeachment, and signed petitions. Those petitions mysteriously disappeared. Executive actions were taken, largely against her core principles. It was a mockery of the very thing the Declaration of Independence stood for. Her people's God given rights were violated by the same people that had been 'elected'.

However, even the elections she could not trust. There was too much proof of tampering, but no one said anything.

Now her people were being sicked on each other for petty differences and things were getting out of hand.

Still, her debt to China only grew until she could scarcely breathe. Payments were made, but it did nothing to stop the interest from piling up about her ears.

God have mercy on her people.

More families drew on welfare. They began to burn the very flag that hundreds of thousands had died for and it was a slap in the face of the valiant that had fought for Her.

For America and the ideals she represented.

It made her stick, and weak. It made her half-crazy that it was allowed to continue. That her people were becoming sheep when they used to be guard dogs. The ones that kept the wolf away from the door.

Yet, everything she tried fell on deaf ears.

Her people felt the heavy weight of the financial burden and the turmoil was swelling in the heart of her. It grew to the point that America came to a decision.

A decision she did not take lightly. One that made her feel horrendously dirty and small for even considering it. There was once a time when she would have accepted death readily before being reduced to her current state.

However, 320,064,285 citizens... children of hers... swayed her mind.

She would trade her pride and body for the cold hard reality of money. There was nothing she could do to stop the corrupt from keeping hold of her precious democracy. However, if she could repay her debts; perhaps it would bring the fight back to her people.

Hope was the most volatile and life changing of frail things.

America squared her shoulders, her mouth set in a grim line as she stared at herself in the mirror of her bathroom. Tears prickled her eyes, but she blinked them away. Countless had been forced to do this, and many more still would until the end of time.

She was like a woman that sold herself to feed her starving children. The one that could no longer hear their pitiful and wailing cries without doing something to ease their pain. America took a steadying breath as her lower lip quivered.

There was no glory in this. She knew that. A hero she was not, not in this moment. She had next to nothing. No honor, except that of a woman trying her hardest to make ends meet. A nation willing to sacrifice everything to protect and defend. It was a desperate solution.

With a heavy heart and sweating hands, she dug her cell phone out of her pocket and stared at the last vestiges of herself respect in the mirror as she dialed a single number.

Her bright eyes deadened slightly under the florescent light.

OoOoOo

China was willing to forgive a large portion of her debt. Something that would make it more than manageable. However, in return for his generosity, America would agree to be his concubine.

And she had... already agreed. Some part of her knew China had expected her answer right away. He chuckled into the phone and promised to send over a contract.

America received the papers, and was half tempted to sign them in blood, just to be poetic. It referred to her after the first paragraph as 'The concubine'.

She knew what he word truly meant.

She'd be his whore.

Bought and paid for years prior.

However, she was a nation that had run out of options and time. If there had to be a pound of flesh taken to repay what was given. Let it be her flesh, not her peoples. Let her pride and honor be utterly annihilated if even one of her Citizens could hold their heads higher and continue on without worry over what would become of their foreign relations.

There was only this last desperate attempt...

Her blue eyes slid closed in shame and humiliation as she nodded slowly. There was no turning back now. The rest of the world would _know_ what she'd been reduced to sooner or later.

It was in her contract. It would be disclosed to comply with some of his previous agreements with allies. China insisted upon her acting the part. A beautiful face that bent to his every whim.

Soft, delicate, and above all reverent to China.

She would also not be the only concubine. Who else he kept, she did not know. She had no want to know. Traditionally, men of affluence and means had several concubines that cohabitated with them. However, there was a level of uncertainty in the agreement. Would she be treated well or as poorly as a prostitute?

The western nation cringed, and tried to hold back the bile that threatened to spill from her throat. America panted, trying to keep her stomach calm at the thought of doing what she knew very well she was going to do.

China did not have a wife, so she was not termed a 'second wife' or 'mistress'. Her position would depend solely on his favor. It made her queasy to think about what she might have to do to gain more of his favor. However, her citizens needed her to sweeten the sleeping dragon's ire. China would not wait forever for repayment.

She owed him, and she would pay. Even if it was of her own body. It would help forgive her debt. The debt of her people.

It would benefit China, and be considered good for business. It would also garner him some further respect, even as America's reputation would be in tatters. The blonde was well aware of matters of political intrigue and it burned her to think of the leering stares of enemy nations upon her.

A whore.

She would be little more than a paid for sexual companion.

She returned the contract, signed and notarized. It had not taken long for the first 'present' to arrive. Something he wanted her to wear, to show off for him when they were alone.

When he came to collect what was promised to him. And, she as she glanced at the clock on the wall, she knew he'd arrive soon.

America knew that truly having a concubine had been abolished back in 1949 when the communist party had taken over in China. During the Maoist reign, no one dared have affairs or arrangements such as these.

But times had changed, and it was making something of a comeback. Mistresses had grown more common. There was a saying that it was as common as 'cow hair' now.

America had slipped into the soft pink nightdress, made of silk, and felt her lower lip tremble. With a sense of mounting dread, she'd brushed her hair and painted make up on her face. A perfume she liked well, she now loathed as she sprayed some on the exposed areas of her flesh.

She took one long, hard, look in the mirror. America knew that she was lovely in this. She had to be. If she wanted to keep him pleased, she must be.

She knew China was aware of her desperation. The western nation knew that he would use it against her.

She sat patiently, waiting for him in the room he'd designated. The one that she had flown all the way to at his instruction.

America heard the soft knocking on the door. Her heart plummeted to her feet. It was time.

With a resolute determination she did not feel, America answered the door.

He hated to be kept waiting. She'd known him long enough to understand that.

China arrived, his dark eyes looked her over from head to toe. Appraising and quiet. America gave a small smile she hoped was inviting and not the grimace it felt like.

"_Ernai"_ He said neutrally, with a smirk on his face.

America looked downward, soft and demure like he wanted. Like he'd specifically told her he wanted her to act. It burned and went against her very nature. She would not cry, not in front of him.

He reached for her, and she did not resist. She let him do whatever he wished.

And he did.

OoOoOo

In the morning she awoke to find a small stack of money on the night stand. Fresh hot tears poured down her cheeks in shame and anguish. She scrubbed her mouth harshly with the back of her hand.

It was her 'allowance' the money given to keep her needs met while he forgave her debts. Beside it was a note, written quickly, informing her of the next time he would have need of her and where she was expected to be.

America stumbled half in shock to the bathroom. She was able to get there just soon enough to fall to her knees and dry heave into the toilet. Her mind kept hissing at her that she was whore. A prostitute. A failure and the lowest of the low.

However, she could feel the subtle relief of her people. The good will toward China for its unexpected 'leniency'.

She sobbed and turned the shower on as hot as it would go. She stood under the spray and let the heat sting and burn her flesh. Her fingernails scraped along her skin until it did damage.

She'd take anything to stop the ghost-like sensations of his hands all over her and the heavy knowledge that it would happen many, many, more times.

However, China had agreed to provide for her to a certain extent. America rocked back and forth beneath the stinging water.

It wounded her even more to know he was serious.

If she'd had any pride left, it would have been shattered.

OoOoOo

She couldn't look anyone in the eyes at the next world meeting. A new set of earrings, another gift from China, glimmered as she sat unmoving.

America said nothing, and did her best to pretend she wasn't even there.

Russia made a cruel remark about her new status as China's whore.

Whore. A very insulting thing to say to a woman in Russia. Yet he said it loud enough for several nations to hear.

America did not even flinch. There was nothing he could say or do that would make her loathe herself more than she already did. Not even when Russia asked China 'how much' it would cost for a night with her.

The dark haired nation took exception to the question. China coldly informed him that America _wasn't _a prostitute.

She didn't agree.

_**OoOoOo**_

_**'Ernai' -Little Wife/Mistress. **_

_**I wanted to make China more masculine than he appears in the series. This piece was not intended to offend anyone. **_


	3. Chapter 3

_**I own nothing! We know this, but just in the off chance any of you are lawyers, I do not own Hetalia. Once again, my broke self owns nothing worth suing me over anyway. :)**_

_**Per Request/Idea From The Two Best Book Lovers. This is not intended to offend anyone, or to be taken overly seriously. This author is only using artistic license. **_

_**And uh... I am super sorry, but somehow this went a little... evil at the end. o.O**_

OoOoOo

There was much about China that was highly worthy of both praise and respect. His country was rich in culture that had already lasted thousands of years. His country was a prime producer of goods and had several rare elements that would secure the future of his people; when they felt ready to use such measures.

Like some other countries, yes, he had loaned America money. In fact, China was not the only one that the star-spangled nation had yet to fully pay back. Among her creditors were Luxembourg, Russia, Belgium, Hong Kong, Switzerland, Japan, ect. However, America continued to make her payments, so he had little to complain about in that respect. Sometimes, she often joked that she'd taken after Finland.

He was not amused by such ramblings. Yet, as long as she continued to pay the trillions worthy of currency he had loaded her, he had little else to say on the subject matter.

That was not something which he enjoyed bringing up to America, not at all. However, it guaranteed that she at least paid him her undivided attention. That was something that he did like. It was seeing other countries attempting to woo her which irritated China greatly.

Russia was not a threat. He considered America a parasite, and his current leader has said as much outright. Relations between the two nations had been strained for quite some time, and it had only increased the burden for such things to be repeated over national news. Strangely enough, however, Russia bought into more shares of American businesses after declaring her nation parasitic.

China had a hard time understanding Russia, except when he was asking to join powers against countries. Like the United States of America.

However, it was countries like Canada and The Netherlands that bothered him the most. Well, perhaps not Canada so much. Except for the fact that America would actively ignore another nation to talk to the spectacled male.

It irritated the Eastern nation because he was far more influential than _Canada._ Several nations tried, and some failed, to win his approval or an alliance. In fact, America had to be invited over a game of ping-pong in order for relations between them to truly start. That should have conveyed to her how magnanimous he could be, and she should have been reverent for the large opportunity he had graced her!

However, she treated his invitation for a semblance of peace between them with the same manner that she treated any other. China was not just any other country. He was the next to top the world. Most countries were very aware of this.

It was also why Russia still bothered to listen to China.

America, however, was not a intelligent as her peers. She seemed to dance through life without ever seeing things for what they were. Dangerous and looking for gain. The Eastern nation could handle such things from the likes of America. She was nearly transparent in her wants.

Yet, there was a spark about her that drew China in. It was the same with some other Eastern nations. Perhaps he had a soft spot for her due to her citizens efforts in 1937 to protect tens of thousands of his people from the Japanese. Her people had publicly decried the Japanese for being monsters during the 'Rape of Nanjing'. She had even extended credit when he was nationalistic. Her people had open supported his during such a hard time. America had even pushed to make him a superpower during any settlement after the second world war.

Their relations were far from perfect, or one sided. However, the road had turned bumpy from the early 1900's to the present day. She'd once cried out the loudest against Japan. Now however, she had allied herself staunchly with Japan.

China was confused by her actions in that regard.

Yet, for some reason, he'd felt compelled to lend America money when her hard times came. Perhaps it was from the memories of when her people had flown supplies over to his people when his capital had been seized.

Or maybe it was because, there were moments where he could not get America out of his head. For the better or the worse.

Then... there were the _Europeans._

His dark eyes narrowed as the Netherlands and Germany sat on either side of America. Germany could be overlooked for his red-faced attempts to get America to take the spare cup of coffee he had. What unbelievable excuse he had come up with today, China did not know nor care to know. The nation did not possess the sheer determination required for making the female nation understand that she was wanted.

Because, unfortunately, she was not blessed with an extreme amount of intelligence as others were.

"Come on Amerika," The Netherlands said with a hint of rough seduction in his tone. "I brought it all the way here to show you."

"Show me?" Her features scrunched up in confusion. "But if you wanted to show me, why didn't you bring it here?"

Her blue eyes were nearly impossibly guileless.

"Ridiculous Europeans, have they no shame? Even that fool nation America! Too stupid to understand." China muttered under his breath. Hong Kong turned toward him, a questioning look on his face.

His dark eyes looked over at where a blushing America was staring at a nearing Netherlands. A nearly blank, but slightly alarmed expression was on her face.

"Why don't you come back to my room?" The Netherlands invited with obvious intentions. His hand slowly moved toward hers on the table.

Germany was frowning, and so was China. Several sets of eavesdroppers were waiting with baited breath for what America would say.

"Oh dude!" She said happily, with a large smile. "Sure! That'd be awesome. Wouldn't it Germany?"

The female nation smiled wildly as she reached for the cup of coffee Germany had, no so discreetly, set in front of her.

His features flushed slightly and the more strict nation nodded slowly. The Netherlands looked none too pleased by the turn of events.

"Nee, not Germany" he backtracked a bit, "just you America. Our relations are-"

"Just as good on terms as you and _Germany_," she continued loudly and with her characteristic dopey grin. "Plus we don't want anyone pickin' on ya for playing favorites."

She laughed openly, and Germany sent the Netherlands a smug look. The other man narrowed his eyes.

"Yes, what _was_ I thinking," he muttered to himself as he turned back toward the table.

"I know dude! Right? Luckily the 'hero' was here to save you?" America grinned at the Netherlands as she sipped her coffee. Her blue eyes met China's

"Hi China!" She called out exuberantly.

"America," Germany said gently, slightly embarrassed.

"Oh right... inside voice." The female nation gently nudged Germany with a wink. She seemed oblivious to the way Germany's face reddened.

"Ridiculous America." Hong Kong said with annoyance.

"Don't talk about America that way!" China snapped at the smaller nation.

Hong Kong looked gob smacked. "But.. you just said-"

China sniffed in distaste. "If you cannot improve the conversation, then keep quiet."

"China!" America called again, only a little more quietly. Then she turned to beam at Germany, who looked a little dazed. The Netherlands frowned heavily.

Said larger nation glared at the star-spangled one.

"That goes for you too America." He snarled.

She continued to grin, not deterred in the slightest by his anger.

"So, Amerika," The Netherlands interrupted, trying to gain her attention. "About later...?"

"Yeah dude?" She walked into the open snare, clueless, for the second time.

China could only grit his teeth in fury. How could she not see?

"Ja, Netherlands," Germany responded, leaning more toward America, who seemed unfazed or unaware of his closeness.

The dark-haired nation stopped trying to figure out the difference where she was concerned. It happened _far_ too frequently.

"What time would you prefer we stop by?" Germany continued, a clear challenge in his gaze.

The Netherlands' gaze might have frozen a lesser nation.

"Six? Then we could all go out to dinner that way."

"Oh no can do," America said with a cheerful grin. "I've got plans."

Two sets of eyes stop glaring at each other to stare at America with a mixture of jealousy and disbelief.

"With who?"

"China!" She spouts happily, like a toddler saying 'no' for the first time to its parents.

China stares stonily at the European nations as their gazes move to find him. He titles his head up just a bit further. No polite greetings need to be exchanged.

"Hi China!" America waves again.

"Silence America!" China snaps out angrily."You are so disrespectful."

The blonde female turns toward the European nations with a loud laugh.

"See? Isn't he awesome?" She asked in a genuine manner.

Germany looks a little worried for her, his hand creeps closer toward hers on the table. The Netherlands stares at China as if the Eastern nation has two heads.

"I don't know if I would call it _Awesome_," Germany said with a slight wince.

The Eastern nation stared at Germany, practically daring him to say it again. China would not suffer such a disrespectful slight.

"Nah, he's totally awesome." She continued, clearly unable to read the tense atmosphere. "Right China?"

"_Poq Gai_" He swore in a near hiss.

America laughed again. Her face brightening. "You rock China!"

"America..." The Netherlands said lowly, "He just told you to go die in the street."

She waved a hand dismissively. "That's just China's humor! We're really on friendly terms."

The Netherlands shook his head, a clearly mystified look on his face.

China was not amused. Especially when Germany practically tripped over himself to go get America more coffee.

OoOoOo

"You are obviously too stupid to know what is good for you!"

America blinked as China finished his tirade of yelling at her.

Again.

She sighed heavily, a lost look on her face. What had she done this time? The blonde nation tilted her head at him.

"Uh... dude?" Her tone betrayed her confusion.

China was in front of her in an instant. A dismissive glare aimed at Japan who was attempting to interject upon America's behalf. China's wrathful glare was enough to have the other country starting back in quiet dignity but refusing to leave.

Brown eyes clashed with blue as his attention shifted to the female nation.

"Do not 'dude' me! Because I am a decent nation, and you are clearly unable to look out for yourself, I consider it my responsibility to watch over you."

Her eyes narrowed as she placed her hands on her hips with a slight pout.

"Hey! I am not a-"

"Silence!" China commanded with a stern expression.

America's mouth slowly closed and she blinked at him in stark surprise. The male nation nodded thoughtfully, if not a bit dismissively.

"We will meet tomorrow."'

America gaped at him, as if she could not believe what she was seeing.

"But-" She tried, in order to express her opinion on what he was saying. No, demanding.

He continued as if she had not spoken.

"In the morning. Eight sharp!" He waggled a finger at her. "No excuses."

The western nation shook her head, as if she was seeing a hallucination.

"But-"

China snorted slightly as he drew himself up to his full height.

"We will announce our alliance by the end of the month." He continued decisively. "I expect you to have a speech prepared to accept and rejoice over this large favor that I am granting you."

"I... I don't... understand," she said quietly.

America tilted her head. A lost puppy stare on her features that made China nearly want to reach out and brush a stray lock of hair out of her face. China's features twisted from stern to a soft sort of affection that was only truly noticeable in his eyes. Otherwise he appeared impassive.

"We will have a union," he explained nearly stoically, but somehow still as if he were talking to a very stupid adult. There were things about her to be admired. Perhaps it would behoove him to instill some of his educational standards in her society.

China did not permit America to say anything else. He nodded stiffly and gave a slight bow as he thoroughly ignored Japan by her side. China had quite a lot of work to take care of, including handling his other allies with soft gloves to make them accept his union with America without declaring war or attempting to dissolve treaties.

But he was China. The rest was insignificant.

He was already walking off, so he missed the way the blonde female's features changed and the innocence that seemed to perpetually radiate from her all but vanished.

OoOoOo

"Well," she said quietly, while slightly smug, "that all settled rather neatly."

Japan turned to America, and noticed the satisfied grin on her features. Her wide blue eyes hardened for a few seconds in time and he blinked quickly. The face he registered in his mind reminded him of something terrible. However, he could not recall what it was nor why. She turned toward him, her angelic features briefly seemed to shift into a mixture of coy and calculating.

"What?" Japan asked in a tone that betrayed his confusion. He must have misheard her.

In a flash, the hints of cynical pride disappeared.

"Hamburgers dude!" America chirped brightly with a nearly vacant smile. Her large blue eyes twinkled behind Texas. "I'm starvin'!"

Japan felt ill-at-ease, but it disappeared under America's usual stream of chatter and confusing speeches. Soon, the strangeness of the moment was forgotten and he relaxed as they made their way to dinner.

America internally smirked, as she prattled on about the new uses for 3-D printers.

Let them think her empty-headed. It was only to her advantage, after all. That was simply how you played the game.

Politics. Love. Life.

It was all a series of moves and interpretation. She withdrew her cell phone from her pocket, much later when she was alone, and dialed a number she knew by heart.

"Mr. President?" She asked softly.

A confirmation sounded from the other end.

"It's done."

His response was listened to as sharp eyes looked to the floor.

"Yes, Sir. I understand. Consider it done."

America straightened her posture as she closed the phone. She stretched and yawned. Tomorrow would herald the newest bit of history.

The _union_ between The United States of America and China.

A slow smile curved her lips and she chuckled silently. It had taken decades of planning and compromises, but now she was just where she wanted to be.

Yes, all good things did come to those that could wait.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Warning: Smart, evil, scheming America... Really sorry!**_

_**I own nothing. Rated M. **_

OoOoOo

There were many nations that were exceedingly unhappy with the announcement.

None more so than Russia. So upset was he by the news, that he could not keep himself from visiting America.

It was almost as if she knew he was coming, the door was unlocked, and he gained access to the house. His violet eyes narrowed on the female nation that sat at her vanity, in her bedroom, watching him through the reflection of the mirror.

An absent smile on her face and her child-like innocence plain as she cocked her head to the side.

"Whatcha doing here?"

"You know exactly why I am here," he commented with his suspicions rising.

"Nope." She replied merrily. "No idea."

"Yes you do. You have every idea. Is that how you've managed to ensnare China?" Russia asked snidely, no trace of humor in his words.

America was unperturbed by his fury. She had been expecting something like this. Her blue eyes flashed behind Texas, and the innocent aura she radiated ceased. The false cheerfulness fell away like leaves in the fall. Her gaze caught his in the mirror before she turned to face him fully.

"What's the matter Russia? Upset that I am where you wanted to be?" She baited with a coolness to her words. Her features were a regally sculpted mask of boredom.

He nearly spat at her words, or at her. America left a bad taste in his mouth. It was true that she was taking the opportunity away from him to form a union with China. Which would have greatly benefited his whole nation.

"It will not last forever," he warned with a harshness to his words.

The female nation smiled then, at the sour look that crossed his features. A coy look entered her eyes.

"Or ... is it that you still wake up at night and reach... for _me?"_

Russia stilled. Furious, ashamed, and filled with longing combined with disgust.

"Do not flatter yourself."

America laughed, the sound seemed to float in the air like a soft melody.

"Flatter myself?" She asked, unaffected by his hostility. "I don't think it would be flattery at all, actually."

Her blue eyes locked with his, and Russia was compelled to stare her down. It was true. There had once been a time when America had worked her false charms on him. And, he had fallen for them. To this day he could not believe how expertly she had played him.

The worst part was that he had never seen it coming. Not from America. _Stupid little Amerika._

How horribly wrong he had been.

"I want nothing to do with you," Russia stated lowly. All of his fury poured into the single sentence.

America waggled a finger at him in a chastising fashion.

"Liar." She said in a sing-song voice that seemed more menacing than not.

Russia knew it was true, but he would take that secret to his grave.

"I should tell China, about our time together." The male nation snarled out, wanting to hurt her as she had hurt him.

America gave a secretive glance his way. "You wouldn't do that," she said with finality.

Russia swallowed, feeling nearly helpless -a feeling he despised- that she was correct. He would never be able to explain why he betrayed his nation by sleeping with America during times they were supposed to have been enemies. He could never breathe a word of the secrets she'd coaxed from his foolish lips after she had used her body to destroy his common sense.

"You witch."

"Ah, guilty," she replied with a maddening smugness.

It was unfair. She was so like him. He hated her as much as he respected and wanted her. She was a powerful force to be reckoned with...

And, no other country even suspected what she really was. His eyes dilated with conviction.

"You'll never get away with this."

"Really?" she chuckled with a brightness to the sound as if she were wholly amused by his words. "What makes you say that?"

It made his heart shutter with fear that she hadn't denied being up to something. Though he should have known. America was far more clever than she had ever let on. Than he had ever dreamed possible.

He had to keep it -her- contained. Whatever she was plotting. Whatever she-

"I will tell the world," he threatened with narrowed eyes that spoke volumes of his fury. "I will show them what you really are."

America smiled, a sinister and wicked smile that left Russia chilled to the bone.

"Oh, please do," she replied, perfectly serious.

Russia felt his brows rise in surprise.

"What?"

"Please," America repeated, "tell them. _Go ahead_."

The Slavic nation could sense the twist in her words, as if she were gleefully waiting for him to spring a trap.

"I will."

She continued to smile, her eyes hard and unforgiving.

"Alright," America agreed, nearly lazily. Yet her eyes were what gave him pause. She reminded Russia of a hungry cat toying with her next meal. It disturbed him that the meal in that analogy was him.

"What are you planning?"

"Me? Planning?" She tilted her head, and her blue eyes nearly glowed with unholy delight. "I have no idea what you are talking about. "

"Cut the shit," Russia snarled, clenching his fists.

"Oh don't get melodramatic on me," she chided gently, "that is boring."

"_Whateve_r it is, I won't let you do it."

"Let me?" She asked, with an indulgent smirk now twisting her lips. It was barely better than that glacial smile from before. "I really don't think you'll have a choice."

Russia took a step toward her, intending to make good on his threat.

OoOoOo

The Eastern nation was taken by surprise when he heard the shouts echoing out of the room adjacent to his.

To foster goodwill for the large international even, of their union, America had asked China to stay with her. So that they could make their way to the signing together. He had just drifted off to sleep when a loud crash followed by the shouting had woken him.

China, concerned that America had gotten into something dangerous again, raced out of his room to hers.

What he found, made his blood chill in his veins.

Russia was attacking America. Her mirror was scattered about the floor. Shiny pieces reflected up like tiny daggers. Blood trickled down her face as she held up her hands, in a defensive manner. Russia had harmed her, without provocation. The nation that was soon to be under China's recognized protection.

China knew that America had not done anything to Russia. He had been with her nearly constantly for a month. They separated only in the evenings when it was time to sleep. And, if there had been any problems, Russia should have come to him first.

But this... this was inexcusable.

Her blue eyes landed on him, and the Eastern nation felt fury wash over him.

"China!" America said with a slight tremor to her voice. "I...I didn't-" She whimpered as she pulled her legs up under her.

He rushed to her side, ripping Russia away with one good pull, inspecting her clearly. Russia seemed frozen to the spot he occupied. The one littered with shards of broken glass and America's blood.

The Eastern nation's eyes widened as he noticed the faint change in America. As if she were barely holding back tears. The crimson liquid continued to trickle down her face. It was a light wound, but the wound had been dealt.

China's expression turned murderous as he pushed America behind him. Shielding her from the brute.

"You dare to disrespect me in this manner?" China challenged, clearly enraged at the very thought. "You dare to lay a hand on what is _mine_?"

It did not occur to China that it was strange that America made no move to correct him. He was too preoccupied with dealing with the threat in the room to care.

Russia attempted, in vain, to reason with him. "America is evil. Wicked. It is not what you think. You do not understand-"

"I do not understand? It is you who does not understand. You have done your best to cry out against this union."

America gave a slight gasp form behind his back, and China regretted informing her. He had hoped that Russia would come around to their union given enough time. It seemed that China's calculations had been in error.

"You have said that it does not benefit me, when we are both aware that it does. Your attack on her will not be forgotten." China snarled with impressive authority in his voice.

Russia could only stare in disbelief.

America's blue eyes never changed from looking hurt and embarrassed, when China quickly gazed back at her. She played the victim to perfection. Russia wanted to strangle her. He wanted to rip out her lying tongue and squash it on the floor underneath his boot. However, the dark eyes that turned toward him with scorn and disapproval told him that China would not listen to him. Moreover, China was against him.

She was a convincing little actress, Russia conceded grudgingly.

And, he realized she was right. He could cry out against her until the sun no longer shone in the sky, but no one would believe him. Especially now, in light of what she had tricked him into doing. Except maybe those that hated America already. None of them were impartial or would be considered a credible source. She had charmed them all with her cunning ways.

"Get out," China demanded angrily.

Russia was smart enough to know that it was a losing battle. He swallowed quickly, his face draining of any color as he saw the look of victory flash across America's eyes. No words were spoken, but the message was conveyed quiet well.

_I win._

OoOoOo

America was given the chance, after pleading sweetly with China, so clear the air with her other allies. She made up some excuse that seemed half plausible for being the 'unpredictable' nation she was.

Germany stood with a sullen expression by the entrance of the meeting room. America put on a nervous smile. Her blue eyes met his, and he took on a more somber look. She walked toward him, stopping only when she was inches away from his side.

"Today's the day," she said a little hopelessly.

Germany's astute attention focused on the tone of her voice. He cleared his throat, and looked at her twice before mumbling a quick reply.

"You do not seem excited."

_Let your smile fall, then try another one. Weakly. Stutter a bit. _

"O-of course... of course I am." She said with a sad look to her pretty features.

The European nation frowned, and he searched her face. It was the perfect mask of reluctance.

"Do you not-?"

"I didn't ever really picture...," she trailed off after interrupting him.

_Hint gently, look at him. Then look away. _

"Picture?" He pressed, his expression nearly hopeful as his face was still flushed.

_Tilt your head slightly. Make him think you're shy. Germany loves that part. _

_"_I... China is not the nation I pictured for this." She said softly.

_Good. Lean closer, make your hand tremble. He'll understand the innuendo. He's smart enough._

Germany's jaw went slack and he stared at her. "Ameri-?"

"But, we are here now and I can't back out," she whispered forlornly.

_So he doesn't get any silly ideas about asking me to side with him over China. Look determined, but unsure. _

"No," the male nation agreed, paling and looking crestfallen. "Duty comes first."

"Yes," America said as if it pained her to say it.

_Wait. One. Two. Three. Four. _

"Do you think I'll make a good union partner?" America whispered. Her hands shook as she reached out to steady herself on Germany's arm.

The European nation flushed, his blue eyes locking with hers, and a flash of longing could be seen in his gaze.

"You would make... any nation proud to be in a union with you." Germany said as he looked away.

_Kiss his cheek, go in for the kill._

America stretched on her toes and planted a soft kiss on the warm cheek of Germany as he turned a brilliant shade of red.

_Hold his gaze, reflect the longing. _

Germany shook slightly, as if he could barely stop himself from demanding America not go through with it.

"You had better go inside," he said at last, and opened the door for her. "As nations we must do what is right. Even...even if it is not what we want."

_Bring the tears, then dash them away. Smile and nod._

She entered the meeting room, where she would sign the documents. As she knew would happen, Germany did not follow.

Dozens of other nations were milling around, staring at America as she entered.

_Look at England, three seconds. Widen your eyes, look afraid. Let his natural urge to want to protect you and make all of this go away come to the forefront. Glance at him again, just to make it seem like he is the one you are depending on._

England's jaw clenched and he seemed upset that she was going closer toward the binding agreement at all. She turned her head toward the far side of the room, as if she couldn't continue to see England so upset.

_Smile for France, look innocent. Grin until you cheeks hurt. Drop your gaze, and act excited. France loves women in love. The conquest is what does it for him. Let him think you are now unattainable. _

She passed by allies of her own, and allies of China as she moved to stand at the table. China would arrive last, making it seem as he was the most important. If she knew him at all. Which she did. America was thorough with her research and tactics.

_Bow slightly to Japan with your head. Convey respect. Look demure and adorable. _

Japan returned her bow with one of his own. The dark eyed nation looked slightly pained at America uniting with China. A country he had not gotten along with for ages now.

The Netherlands looked furious over the whole thing. America could soothe him later when she had more time and less prying eyes upon her.

_Seem oblivious. Don't notice that he's staring at you so blatantly. Too direct. Time for a spectacle._

America purposefully tripped herself over her other foot. She landed in a displaced heap on the floor. Some nations snickered.

_Flush, make a loud statement. Distract them._

"I totally meant to do that!" She called out loudly with a high pitched laugh.

Some nations relaxed, others muttered to themselves with sympathy for China.

Finally, the Eastern nation pulled open the door. HIs face the picture of dignified composure. America dipped her head.

_Blush. Shy away from the glances. _

China's dark eyes were on her nearly instantly and he strode forward with a commanding presence. A hush fell over the room as they waited with baited breath to see if the pair would actually go through with it.

America waited patiently, as China stopped right next to her.

_Lean more into China. He'll enjoy that. Then startle, as if you've just noticed how close you were._

China's eyes nearly glowed with amusement as America blushed and stuttered out an apology. His lips curved into a handsome smile.

"I will take responsibility of watching over you."

_Glance around nervously. Then look overly confident._

"Back at'cha dude!" America responded with a large smile and a thumbs up.

China frowned at her words, but America knew that he would. She had to keep up appearances after all. Internally, she smiled triumphantly as China reached for the pen. The pen that would unite them together under the eyes of every government.

Her blue eyes watched very carefully as he signed his name on the paper. She made a pretense of snatching the pen.

_Bite your lip. Draw his attention there._

America signed her own name, and the room erupted into cheers. Well wishes were given. China puffed out his chest with pride. What was done would take a massive act of war to undo.

_Perfect._

OoOoOo

America let China lead her to his home. Specifically his room. He'd mentioned something about tradition, now that they were a union.

The blonde haired nation chattered a bit to pass the time, and she noticed that China was nodding to her words indulgently but not responding.

_Distracted? Excellent._

He opened the door, and she pounced on him. Her lips touching his as China made a low moan of approval.

_Make the kisses clumsy, let him think you are less experience than you really are. _

Her hands moved over his body, hoping to divest him of his clothes.

_Lighter touches, and do it quickly. Act as if you are very unused to touching a man. _

America pulled back, glancing shyly away from China whose dark eyes smoldered with displayed lust and arousal.

_Let China do the conquering. He's always had a penchant for that and this will drive him wild, imaging that he is the greater between us. _

He became forceful. His touches demanding as he sought to wring the pleasure from her body. America whimpered and moaned.

_Act the part. Be what they all think they are better than. You'd come out on top come hell or high water. There was nothing left to say about the matter. Except..._

_**Dance puppets. Dance. **_


	5. Chapter 5

_**Dear readers,**_

_**This is the main plot from the T.V. series Jericho. Ideas and events herein should be credited to the makers of that series. As well as the makers of Hetalia. **_

_**I own nothing, rated M. **_

OoOoOo

It was a moment born out of the worst sorts of hellish horrors. Pure anguish, sorrow, grief, and pain. Terror the likes of which the world had never known.

The day America died.

The day that China nearly went insane.

Her blue eyes flew open, having been dozing at the world meeting, one just the same as any other. Her hands slammed down on the table with a force that cracked it in twain. Other jumped, startled out of their own semi-napping states.

Germany opened his mouth, ready to rebuke the star-spangled nation, when they saw it. America seized. Her mouth fell open in a piercing scream that shattered several windows, and made others clutch at their ears to muffle some of the sheer _hurt_ that America's scream conveyed.

Pain beyond the likes of all imagining, was evident in her face, twisted from the sensation. Her wailing cry of distress, was met with many nations springing to their feet, trying to help her. America stood, her limbs shaking as the howl she made was cut off mid-note.

Fathomless blue eyes locked on China.

"America?!" Some shouted.

"US?!" Others cried out, trying to figure out what had happened.

China watched her with wide brown eyes. Noting that she was staring at him, as if he were the only other nation in the world.

The last thing she wanted to see.

His heart clenched painfully in his chest as he heard her wheeze, the sound akin to that of an animal near its last breath.

"I never said it," America whispered, clutching her chest, as sweat slicked down her temples. Her blue eyes were filled with salty tears that tumbled and fell onto the desk before her. Blood began to trickle out of her mouth, flowing like a crimson river that heralded the end.

Her skin turned sickeningly pale, from a creamy and healthy color to white and finally to the pallor of grey that burned to see. It was truly the last moments for the United States of America.

An end every nation could not look away from. It was nearly hypnotic in its fear-inducing realization. Gazes were wide with horror and anguish. Those that had witnessed such an event before, understood instantly what was occurring. In a heartbeat, there was a tiny fleck of light that burned in her breast. The light that started from within her, began to glow even brighter.

"But I've always..." she swallowed and let out a weak cough, as her eyes glazed over. Texas crumbled into ash, and China stared at her, petrified and unable to move. "I've always loved you."

Her expression morphed into the most serene and loving expression China had ever seen.

Then America, exploded. A burst of energy and flashing light, that would have been beautiful were it not so traumatic. Her body burned away nearly instantly, a final trade-mark grin on her lips. Her soft blonde hair fell around her shoulders as she was swiftly removed from existence.

Shaking hands, and pale faces turned toward each other.

"What the bloody hell just happened?" The United Kingdom demanded in a shaken whisper.

It was Canada and Mexico that shot up next, with equal gasps of disbelief.

"Quickly!" Canada said with violet eyes the size of saucers behind his glasses. "Someone check on America's people!"

"What has happened?" Spain asked with great concern.

"Am...America-" Mexico started with his brown eyes unseeing for the shock he had taken. The Northern neighbor of the now deceased country was no better off. The jingle of cell phones and tunes went off around the room.

Russia, numb from what had just occurred and unable to process it, reached for his phone automatically. He answered, not bothering to say a greeting. Had his breath always been so loud? Why did he feel as if his whole world had just been snatched from him?

Canada shook his head, tears streaming in his eyes, his hand covered his mouth as he sobbed loudly. The phone call he received must have been extremely bad news.

_"The United States of America was bombed."_

_"Bombed?"_

_"Reports are still coming in, but... it appears that there are at least 23 confirmed detonations!"_

_"Of what?"_

_"__**Nuclear **__warheads."_

The phone slipped from China's fingers and made a slight noise as it toppled to the carpet. Though it was loud, his shout of rage was nothing compared to the former United Stated of America.

It would come to light only a few months later, that two nations had attacked America unprovoked, through terrorist cells. They had destroyed her secretly, catching millions unaware, and millions after that died from the after effects.

The tainted rainfall, the fall out, disease, and lack of food.

All made worse by the constant fighting. Both within her former borders and without.

In the wake of her passing, China had spent countless days in a fervor of determination. His people were as appalled by what had happened to her as China was. How... how _dare _someone attack The United States?

He would see them burn in the worst sort of hell imaginable, if it were up to him. The U.N. was scrambling to give emergency aid and relief. America's FEMA had responded as best as it could. However, it seemed, through the limited communications that were possible, that an E.M.P. had been detonated above her lands, rendering her people without electricity or a great deal of machinery.

They were weakened and nearly defenseless. However, the Americans-a credit to _her_\- were more pissed off than anything. Certainly there was terror and starvation, infighting and chaos. However, they had banded together enough, that they were willing to fight anyone that so much as set foot on the ground near them.

It was... admirable.

China had struggled to aid the citizens left behind after the attacks on the United States. He sent in thousands of pounds of food, water, and medical supplies. So had many other nations, nearly all. Those that could spare rescue aid, had done so. However, troops could not be sent for fear of radiation sickness and poisoning.

So, he had left printed drops, telling them -the Americans or whatever they would become- that China was their friend. And, it was only the truth. He would never sink so low as to dishonor her memory...

Her memory...

The thing that kept China from launching weapons of his own against those that might have fit the bill for being the one to kill America. The loud mouthed and often too childishly optimistic nation. The one that had loved him. America... America had been _his._

Perhaps, he had not know it at the time, the depth of what he felt for the usually irritating nation, but now he recognized it for what it was.

Affection. Care. Love. Desire.

Now however, she was eternally out of his reach.

As if the horror of her passing were not enough, shortly thereafter, China watched as North Korea and Iran exploded as well. Balls of light and energy, with their eyes wide in surprise. The whole world watched in stark awe and terror once more. Two countries were obliterated off the map. America's entire payload of nuclear devices, some thought to be deactivated as well, was launched.

However, there had been no nation to authorize it. No one they knew of to give the command. It was in short, total annihilation.

He finally knew who had destroyed America, and there was a sense of satisfaction that she had struck back at them from beyond the grave. But, that had been when he was unaware of _them._

_They_ appear before him, only a year after America's death. China can hardly breathe when he sees them. They have some features of America. One has her blonde hair, the other her eyes, and another one has her tanned skin. Everything else about them is completely wrong.

All wrong!

Two were event he incorrect gender. Those two, China does not even bother to listen to in the slightest.

America had become a desolate waste land in many of the major cities. Death on a massive scale, one so large it had never been seen before, left China shaken. It had left every country shaken to its very core. Many in the E.U. and the U.N. were uncertain of whom to support and whom to deny.

China however, never faltered for a moment, was under no such distress. His answer was quite simple.

_None._

None of them were America. None of them were the United States. None of them were _her_.

No matter what they called themselves. Adding insult to injury, one of them had kept her flag. _America's_ flag. HIs fists clenched in anger, the pain that washed through him was nearly tangible. How dare they disrespect her in such a way?

Who did they think they were?

Oh, he knew their names well enough.

_The Allied States of America._

_The Independent Republic of Texas._

_The Columbus Government._ Though China knows this one thinks it will replace The United States of America, because it truly goes by her name. However, the successor he sees, is not America. The man is younger, with a look of danger and carnage in his eyes.

_The Union of Alaska and Hawaii._

The last one, did not bother China as much. The quiet male was perhaps, a bit too much like Canada but bore a striking resemblance to the Asian nations. Something that both delighted and worried China.

"What do you want?" He asked plaintively as they four stared at each other with as much distrust as they showed the rest of the world.

"Recognize me as a true nation!" The Independent Republic of Texas demanded hotly. China's brown eyes narrowed on him nearly unforgiving. He remembered a time when the state had been America's glasses. Inanimate objects were not nations.

No matter how much they howled on about it.

"I am the new America," Allied States of America boasted boldly, giving a heated glare at the Columbus Government.

"The hell you are!" Said Government hissed back. "I am the only one that possesses the true leader by succession of the cabinet. I am the true new America."

"A worthless thing. The old America is dead." The ASA retorted with a smirk that was so achingly familiar.

China looked up sharply, fury radiated off of him in waves.

"You help me, and I will make damn sure its never forgotten. I want to model myself more after the Europeans." She said loudly, making sure to make eye contact with several of them.

England could not bear to look at any of them.

Russia felt sick to his stomach at those that had not even waited for America's body to cool before being born into the world.

"I want..." The Union of Alaska and Hawaii said softly, "To be _The United States of America_, again. I want the old way. I want to be what we were."

China's eyes widened, and he stared at the male mock-nation with an expression of near gratitude. Of course. It was so remarkably simple.

He would put America back together again.

OoOoOo

The Union agreed without any problems. China hardly had to lift a finger. Such a thing was wise.

It turned out that the ASA and Texas put up the largest fight. For the Columbus government, China merely had to promise to unite all of America again. As he had with the Union. He managed to combine them with ease. The Union was absorbed into Columbus without so much as a fuss.

China watched with rapt attention as the now larger 'nation' retained its female form and blue eyes. One step closer to being... correct. The features were still off, and she wasn't truly _America. _

It took the threat of war and more devastation on the remaining stubborn ones, from the world as well as China himself, to coax the ASA to and Texas to give in. Texas lasted the longest, refusing to go back to state hood, until he was literally pummeled into submission.

China would not be denied. He forcibly dragged the pair together, waiting until it was clear to summon Columbus, which was now going by its former name. The United States of America. He nearly wept in relief when Columbus touched the forms of Texas and the ASA.

The effect was instantaneous.

Watching her come together again, was a thing of true beauty. The merging and light that exploded from all around, left a sweet and sleeping America behind.

Perfect. She was just as he remembered.

Her hair was the correct color, her chin and cheeks were as they should be. He knew without checking that her eyes would be blue, a color he loved.

She awoke slowly, moving to sit and blinking at the room. Her soft blond hair tumbled to he side as she tilted her head.

China was at her side in an instant.

"Do you remember who I am?" He asked with barely contained hope and longing.

Blue eyes regarded him quietly from behind Texas. It was perched on her nose once more. The new United States of America blinked and looked downward.

"You are _China."_

"Yes," he coaxed eagerly. "What else?"

"You are my friend." She repeated, almost mechanically.

He frowned, that was not what she sounded like. The speech was... off. The sweetness of her blue eyes melted into a cold and hardened look. China gasped lightly.

"You are my ally. China helped be during my time of need. It will not be forgotten. " She said with a sort of deadly finality in her voice.

"Yes, I did help you, and now you are safe."

"Safe?" America barked out in a laugh, which sounded just like her old ones except bitter and twisted. "Don't make me laugh."

There was no sweet smile, nor teasing humor. China swallowed harshly.

"I will never allow such a thing to happen _ever_ again. I will strike where and when I must. I shall never delay in stopping a threat again. There will be more than retribution, there will be vengeance."

"But.. the nations responsible were destroyed." China tried to sway her, as his hands gripped her clenched fists.

America gave a sinister grin.

"Oh, but there will always be others, China."

The body was perfect, but the personality -her soul-, was now imperfect. It was horrid. She was not America, not the one who had died. The thirst for blood was painted on her innocent face, it was easily glimpsed in her gaze.

China wondered if he hadn't brought back a monster, and not his love.


	6. Chapter 6

**_Be advised, I claim no right to ideas/characters/ ect contained herein. I do not claim responsibility for Hetalia, or any affiliated licensed ideas. _**

**_Not meant to cause offense in any way, shape, or form. :) _**

**_I own nothing. ;)_**

OoOoOo

Its starts with Canada's good fortune.

Everyone is in attendance to celebrate his independence day. Canada day. So, therefore it was wholly right and natural that England and France should be there. They had greatly influenced the country as a whole. It should be a night of revelry and forced political politeness. For the most part, it is just that. China has already grown bored to the tedious nature of acting around the other nations based upon his alliances with them.

However, as the florescent light glints off the champagne flutes, and the music tastefully enters into another pieces of classic music, one person catches his gaze. Tucked away in a corner, quite and unassuming, was the Untied States of America. Her blue eyes are locked onto something, as she discreetly steals glances behind Texas. Out of impulse, his gaze follows hers.

He sees only Canada being dotted upon by both France and England. The gentle northern nation blushes happily a the attention. Nearly glowing as he chats with them. It is nearly nauseating to see them all so pleased and proud. It is too much of a display for China's tastes. However, he does not immediately turn away. He could engage any number of nations in another conversation. He could take a walk about the room. And, yet he does not.

Something about the picture they present strikes him as odd.

He cannot place his finger on it.

Even as Germany and Russia migrate toward the happy 'family'. They too give their congratulations and speak with pleased tones with Canada. Russia even smiles and jokes with the blonde male, which heightens the revelry.

Its perfect. A wonderfully good omen for the rest of the year.

But... it seems oddly... quiet.

OoOoOo

Her high heels 'clack' on the impressive marble floor. China follows the golden-haired female nation as she leaves the festivities. At a reasonable time, no one would be offended by her departure. Yet, that is what was bothering him so deeply. His gaze wanders down the modest but flattering dark blue dress she wears and the way her hair is artfully arranged.

She is elegant, he will give her that. Though China would never tell her that aloud. She might get a swollen ego from such praise to match her boorish ways. However, he cannot help but take in the fact that tonight she was as quiet as he has ever seen her. She did not make an attempt at telling anyone jokes, or give out her rather recognizable laughter.

America had been as silent and unfeeling as a stone. It was unusual, and needed investigation.

"Leaving so soon?" He asks, his voice a touch low, and she halts in her step mid-stride.

"I am tired." America replies evenly, not turning to face him. Though she makes an attempt to glance behind her shoulder.

It is a lie. China is already bored with this. He dealt with lies day in and day out. Intrigues and scheming were nothing new, but he knows this game well. Perhaps she was conspiring toward some goal he was not yet aware of?

"Hm." The noise is non-committal, but he senses that she is slightly on edge.

From what?

"Shouldn't you at least say goodbye to your 'Brother' nation?"

Her head shifts more toward looking at him behind her shoulder.

"My brother?"

There is something off in the way she lofts the title. China keeps his features carefully blank as he listens intently. Piecing the puzzle together.

She gives an unlady-like snort then.

"Should I also say 'Goodbye' to 'Papa' France and 'Daddy' England as well? Or maybe I should throw my arms around 'Paps' Germany?" She laughs then, but it only causes China to still with a sense of mounting dismay.

Something really is off about America tonight.

Her gaze turns cold.

"Is that the 'quaint' little thing I should do?"

Her words are whisper soft, but he hears them and knows a trap when it is has so obviously been laid bare before him. However, very few things have amused him lately, and this might offer a bit of relief from the monotony.

Or not.

China, however, does wonder about that gleam in her eyes.

His expression never changes, but he meets her gaze head-on, never backing down from the unflinching stare she give him.

"It would be a fitting end to the evening," he says politely.

"Yes," she says tilting her head back slightly, watching him like a hawk. "That would be 'fitting', and 'proper', like the end of a story book. Or a bed time story."

She turns on him them. Bright eyes shining and vicious as he sees that she is despretly tyring to kepe the tears in check. Her grin is a mockery of what amusement is supposed to be. It is tainted. Twisted. Bitter.

The smile of someone that is slowly drowning in their own emotions.

"That's the fairytale, China." America enunciates with a slight hitch in her words. "Don't you get it?"

A self-deprecating laugh richocets between them and through his heart. Though America did not notice it, he winces at her raw pain.

"The _Fairytale."_ She repeats, as if he has not heard her.

Her gaze shifts to the ground, dull and nearly listless.

"The reality... the reality is..." His own breath catches as she stifles a sob, but at the same time her face goes conspicuously blank.

Like a broken doll. She reminds him so clearly of a wounded object, something that once might have been precious but had since been utterly rejected.

"Parents _can_ hate their children."

China nearly backs up a step at the stark honesty in her eyes. The way they lift to his withiout the slightest hesitation. She means it. There is only frankness in her words and tone.

A simple statement of fact.

His darker eyes, unbidden by the nation, swing to the silhouette of England and France as they chat amicably across the room. He sees them. He knows she sees them as well.

China can only bring himself to blink as his gaze returns to the female nation before him. That pained expression crosses her face briefly, along with the understanding that he knows now.

"Haven't you ever noticed?" Her head tilts to the side as another humorless laugh escapes her lips.

Though a reserved nation and one that does not butt into the affairs of others often, China could not stop the sense of sorrow that crushed at his heart. Even if she was a nation now, even if she made choices that were not always agreeable...

No child should know their parents despised them. There was always a sense of filial duty, China understood that well. There was honor and tradition to uphold. Yet, this-

This seemed so needlessly cruel.

China had thought... He had believed that they had worked out their differences. They were bonded now through decades of history and trials. He watches as America shifts away from him, looking so disillusioned that he swallows back against the lump in his throat.

"America," He mumbles, unsure of what to say as his voice hoarsens at the display she presents.

Her teeth clench, he can tell by the way her jaw tightens. Her right hand twitches as she extends her arm. A placid smile in place that makes him feel just a touch sick.

"I am not one of them. We all know that. My people are too different, my views too conflicting to there's. I will _never_ be what they want or wanted. Its galling to know that from the start I have always been found lacking in their eyes. _Always. _And, no, I really don't know what I do so wrong, that Canada does so right. Even in a non political sense. I just.. I... The best I can hope for, is to be tolerated like a disease. I am aware of that. I know. I look at them, and I see that they made me. I see how _happy_ they are with Canada. I want him to be happy. I love him too. But, they are the reason I am here China. I only exist because of them."

Her lower lip trembles, but not a single tear falls.

"And, they _hate_ me."

She rakes a hand through her hair, mussing it up. China can only gaze upon her with a wisdom gathered from his thousands of years. America... well, she was actually quite wise and serious in her own right. Blue eyes clashed with honeyed-brown.

"They hate _everything_ about me. But...I am too useful to be completely discarded. So, I suppose that works in my favor, right?"

It is a rhetorical question, he knows in an instant.

But, he can sense that she is beyond caring what he thinks. Beyond hiding the truth behind saccharine smiles and boisterous laughter.

She's been wounded very deeply, and from the start. China is appalled to admit that he had never noticed. Because he had never cared. They existed pleasantly on each other's outer circles. Where they were the most at peace. Yet, tonight... she has thrown everything out of balance.

Tonight, he has become intrigued by her. Even as she leaves him without so much as a parting word.

_Meiguo..._

China inhales, the barest whispers of her perfume still linger in the air. Delicate and slightly sweet. Two things he had never attributed to her before. Warm honeyed-brown eyes followed her as she left. Refine and poised. A woman that could and would bare the strain of her circumstances.

What a tragically beautiful country.

He took a moment to ponder all he had learned in their short exchange. His eyes wandered back to the others. The fine opulence and well placed lines of conversation. They did nothing for him, except cause headaches. But Meiguo... America... something about her fierce expression and blunt honest as she showed her pain... swayed something in him.

He would take better care to watch her from now on. To see that vulnerable face again. Directed at him.

America, it seemed, needed someone like him.


	7. Chapter 7

**_Be advised, I claim no right to ideas/characters/ ect contained herein. I do not claim responsibility for Hetalia, Dresden Files (TV SERIES) or any affiliated licensed ideas. _**

**_Not meant to cause offense in any way, shape, or form. :) _**

**_Per request! Magical Yao! x Fem America! Some smut. _**

**_I own nothing. ;)_**

OoOoOo

Her name was Amalia. A very old Germanic name, derived from the word 'amal' meaning 'to work'. Her mother had found it fitting when she had been born on a hot day. Some 1200 years ago, the third child of a poor serf. Her father eked out his service to their lord by making fishing nets for the local fishermen. One fateful day, as her younger brother had fallen into the river, while her mother mended the most recent wash, another aspect of Amalia was discovered.

_Magic._

The thing of Arthurian legends and all grand fables of old.

For Amalia, it had been a very real and rather everyday thing, after she had mysteriously lifted her younger sibling from the murky depths. Her mother, as pale as the moon and in utter shock, had gripped her harshly by the shoulders. She had accused her of witchcraft, which had been utterly true at the time. She'd bid Amalia to hie off and nay return. She promised to tell the family that Amalia had drown in her brother's stead.

Things had been much different back then. At the tender age of 12, she had done her mother's bidding, knowing that she would never be permited to return home. Though it had saved her brother's life.

In a stroke of fate, luck, or the possibility that her magic had alerted someone far more powerful than herself...

She'd been found in the woods, having recently killed a stray rabbit that had been unable to escape the rock she'd smashed it with from a distance. Warm and gooey blood still coated her fingers when the wizard first arrived. He was all dark eyes, scented robes, rich silks, and mystery. He was something out of the wisps of dreams. His skin of a different color than her own.

It looked as if God had painted him a wondrous hue.

Instinctively, Amalia had dropped her catch, and backed up several steps. Something about him screamed power and it terrified her.

It was the first time she ever met 'Ancient Yao'. She had been in awe of him. The articulate speech he possessed, and the manners. To her, he had been something far beyond what she could ever imagine.

It felt like a fated meeting.

However, it was not the last...

She was taken under the tutelage of a renowned noble wizard house. There, she had studied and practiced until her fingers bled and her vision dotted with dark specs. She pushed herself to the brink to please her Master, and her reward was that her power grew to astounding heights. For a human, granted. There were other things she learned that were far more powerful.

It was in her seventeenth year, that she met Arthur Kirkland. A wizard of high reputation and had been distinguished even amongst their magical peers. One look into his green eyes, and one smirk from that sinful mouth and Amalia had her heart stolen away. Like a thief in the night. Yet, in those days, over a millennium ago, mages had fought in bloody conquest for magical power. They were bound in their servitude to King and country. As well as their magical allegiance.

Because of that, their love was shadowed with worry of each battle, and the next threat that might come creeping over the hills. It had made them a perfectly honed pair. Fully capable of taking down even a dragon, if they so wished it. With some hardship, but entirely possible. However, their time together had been pitifully short, by comparison to the rest of their lives.

Which had then, in turn, caused Amalia's current state.

Cursed. She was bound to her own skull for all eternity. Sentenced to a life of exile and forbidden to interact with the outside world. Even at the end of time, she would still be bound to bit of bone that was magically warded from ever rotting or breaking. In short, she lived in utter hell. Or limbo... depending upon one's definition. She was under the ownership of Ancient Yao. The same one that had helped carve the curse into her very marrow. The black runes against the stark white of bleached bone were a jarring reminder of just what she was now.

It was some twisted form of punishment. She would be in Yao's possession for as long as he lived. To ensure that she could never cross the line of the law ever again. It was doubly cruel because of what Yao was.

A dragon capable of taking human form. Which meant he was nearly immortal.

However, unlike Amalia he was permitted to transcend to other planes of existence.

Due to her past, because she had so highly valued education and the written word -something serfs were forbidden- her curse included acting as a walking magical encyclopedia. Or a magical google, depending on what the mages they brought her to train 'dubbed' it.

Most new mages called her 'Amy' or some such nonsense. Her newest pupil called her 'Amelia'. Which was a marked improvement. If she was asked to comment upon it.

"Wy," Amelia reprimanded as she noticed the girl was attempting to use her magic to curse a young man from Siberia.

The brown haired girl grinned up at the bound spirit with a sheepish expression.

"Sorry Amelia," she said, not looking contrite in the slightest.

The ghost hummed, clearly unamused. However, she found an odd sense of kinship with the loud-mouthed rebel of her group. In the girl she saw vast potential. Especially in the elemental arts.

OoOoOo

Ancient Yao possessed a streak of cruelty.

In the beginning, it had been actual torture. He had caused her physical pain by sending magic into her wards. Amelia felt as if she was being ripped apart by the very soul. It was an awful thing, and had she been alive, the magical council might have intervened on her behalf, though the ghost doubted it. Every time he went near her skull for a good three hundred years, the sprit braced herself for the pain.

Yet, he seemed to grow bored of that afterwards, and it was shortly thereafter, that she was permitted to tutor the young mages. But, there was still a great deal of disharmony between them.

His golden brown eyes never missed an opportunity to spear her with disgusted looks or out right glares. Dragons were notorious for holding grudges. And, Amelia had pissed in her proverbial Wheaties since the day of her sentencing and subsequent death. He had not been particularly pleased to be shackled with her, and she wasn't terribly keen on the idea either.

However, it did certainly beat being sold of to a medical college or traded at a flea market, as he so often threatened. After all, she was not permitted to even leave the skull without her master's permission. Such was her burden.

The constant reminder of her status as well as his gloating over being able to interact with the world was painful at times. Down right mean at others. He also enjoyed giving her glimpses of the world she could not see, but never much nor for long. It was akin to teasing a starving dog with a morsel of food.

When he forced her from her skull on the nights where she or some other unfortunate soul agitated him, the dragon would command her to recite stories for him. Dramas, bold adventures, and comedies were his favorites. However, about two hundred years ago, he had taken an interest in romances. His reptilian eyes would stare her down with each word she spoke.

As time continued on, and things changed in the outside world, Ancient Yao brought new things into his 'collection', but Amelia was well aware that it was his dragon nature to horde things that he considered precious. She often heard strange sounds coming from somewhere out of the study. It sounded of people, animals, and many strange things she had never heard before.

Ancient Yao would tell her nothing of these. And, she had only been able to read the magical tomes since she had come here. By now, she knew each one by heart. How she longed for something new! And, the dragon knew that as well. He was known to leave a new book just out of he radius, so that she could not read it. He also told part of her tale as a cautionary warning to the mages each year.

He seemed to thrive on punishing her. Which aligned with his nature. Amalia had broken the rules. She had to be punished. For dragons, it was all rather concrete and needed no further evaluation. Only humans tried to color the world in shades of gray.

They were tied together for better or worse for nearly all of time. She was, for lack of a better term, his constant companion. It had taken a few hundred years for her to notice that Ancient Yao was well aware of the fact that he outlived the human mortals he protected on the magical council. He had even made it his mission to eradicate necromancers for what he considered a great evil against the natural order.

In a way, he was correct.

But they had been in this together since her damnation. Her curse. Yet, with the mages, her pupils, Ancient Yao listened to her recommendations. Amelia was the best possible tutor there was. Schooled in the old and newer ways, and she held the added benefit of gaining nothing from either a mage's advancement or dismissal. Which is why Wy was given the chance to train with a higher wizard of elemental magics.

Amelia beamed with pride as she told the girl, who stammered her thanks.

Ancient Yao watched her the entire time. Amelia only ever smiled with the children.

OoOoO

Over a decade passed, before she met Wy again. The spunky girl she had tutored was long gone. A haggard woman had taken her place. A desperate creature that had dared to sneak into the study of Ancient Yao, and steal Amelia's skull.

The spirit could only watch as her skull was dropped into a sack cloth, and Amelia was forced to go along with it. She was not permitted to venture far from it. Where it went, she too was forced to go. Well, technically, she could have called out to her Master...

But this was the most excitement she'd had in centuries.

Passively, she watched as Wy took her farther away from the only place she had known for over nine hundred years. The change of scenery was admittedly nice.

"Wy?" She questioned quietly, choosing to project herself running by the woman's side. "What are you doing?"

"I need your help," her former pupil said with desperation as she huffed a breath, cradling the skull to her chest tightly. As if it were a precious keepsake.

The spirit eyed her speculatively. Blue orbs widened slightly. She must certainly be in a predicament if she would risk Ancient Yao's wrath.

"How may I help you?"

"Your memories. Your knowledge," Wy continued frantically. "I need them."

Well, that was certainly puzzling. No more so, than when they reached a darkened area of a city that Amelia had only seen a part of from the window in the study. The outside world had changed so much!

It was...

Overwhelming.

The spirit chose to focus on Wy instead, as they veered off into a space between two large constructs. Amelia spotted the transportation spell that had been written into the wall. To the passerby, it would look like nothing. Only a sorcerer or sorceress could activate it. The wall turned green as they approached, Wy spouted out the correct words -internally Amelia beamed with pride over how easily the woman seem to use the magic- and they were able to run through the wall.

They landed somewhere where the sun was shining and it was hot.

Where was this place?

But it was the circle in the middle of this barren wasteland with dry winds that caused Amelia to stop from questioning what Wy was up to.

She knew in an instant.

Wy was busy pulling Amelia's skull from the sack.

"Sorry 'bout that," the woman muttered, smoothing her hand upon the top of the skull. It is the first time someone has touched her skull outside of Yao.

The ghost stares at her, horrified beyond words.

"Who?!" she demands, pointing at the circle, with its ornate symbols written to near perfection. Wy has gotten ahold of something dark and far beyond her skill level.

There is no confusion in Wy's eyes, nor does she even pretend to deny a single thing as she slowly pulls her wand out from her jacket. She stands out in her dark clothing against the beige sands. Amelia can only watch as Wy's jaw clenches as her lower lip trembles.

"My husband." She replies in clipped tones. "He is going to die soon."

The Spirit stares at her, accusation on her face.

"I can't live without him!" Wy argues, despite the lack of response.

"You can and you will." Amelia says, not showing an ounce of sympathy. "You don't know what you are getting into."

"Tell me then," Wy says, attempting to coax the information from Amelia. "There is only references to you in the Grimoires."

The Spirit blinks uncomfortably, her expression carries shame. The Grimoires... she had forgotten about them. How many pupils had written them? Amelia herself had written many while she had been alive. The hardest thing anyone ever won was an education. She had wanted to help educate others.

Foolish. What a foolish notion. She had never considered that the purposes of them would be twisted. Yet, she should have thought of such a thing. It was so easy to turn upon your moral code when the fates conspired against you.

She remembered what such a life was like. Littered with choices that had been made with the best of intentions.

"I cannot tell you." The Spirit said stoically. Pity shone in her erethral gaze.

"You can! You will!" Wy tried to threaten. "I will cause you great suffering-"

"I know a great deal of suffering Wy, and while you can torture me in this form, you cannot destroy me. You lack the power to do so."

She winces back, indecision played in her eyes as the shell of the girl Amelia knew started back at her with hollow but desperate eyes. Amelia could not spare her. For Wy's sake. She had to crush the hope the woman clung to.

"If he dies," Amelia urged frantically, "you must leave him."

Wy, much older than when she had been Amelia's pupil sobbed as she held her wand tightly.

"I-I can't!"

"You must!" Amelia roared back, her hands passed through the woman. Unable to grip her shoulders and shake some sense into her.

"You don't understand-" The woman started, shouting and shaking her head in denial.

"I understand all too well," the spirit replied, her voice wavering and cracking at the end.

It caused the pair to pause, as the tear-streaked sorceress looked up in surprise.

"Did you not ever question as to why I am trapped in my own skull for all eternity?" Amelia questioned lowly. Had she been alive, her tears would have been obvious. However, she has been dead longer than most civilizations have existed. There is no shine in her eyes, but the sorrow is as plain as day on her face.

They both knew Wy had. Without fail, inevitably, one pupil would ask Amelia her past out of every batch. Wy had not been the one to brave the question that year. But the clear want to know burned in her eyes. And, Amelia was powerless to do any more than explain.

"I fell in love once," The bound ghost started, staring at Wy with all the desperation her knowledge possessed. "He was a very gifted Sorcerer. So bright and brave."

Amelia feels a lump in her throat that isn't real, as she has no throat anymore, but she swallows and looks up at the ceiling.

"For a time, we were very happy. But then... he died."

Silence. There was only silence as she relieved the moment for what felt like the millionth time in her existence.

"And, I... crossed the line. More than once," she whispered looking grim and mournful all at once. "And, I brought him back from his rightful place in paradise."

Wy gasped, knowing that she was prepared to do the same thing just before Amelia's confession.

"In the end, it was my love that doomed me.

"When the council found out, they killed my Arthur, in front of my very eyes," the spirit continued, "then I was sealed in my own head until the end of time. Never allowed to touch anything again."

Wy shakes like a leaf. Amelia draws closer, even though she cannot touch the woman.

"_That _is the fate that awaits you. _That!_ Is that what you want? Do you wish for a fate akin to mine?"

The question was a demand. Harsh and unforgiving.

The woman presses a fist to her mouth, stifling a terrified sob as her want clatters to the ground. Her eyes are red rimmed and swollen from her tears.

"You can meet him again in Paradise," Amelia says by way of comfort. "You will miss him, but he will be in a place so wondrous that words cannot describe it. Do you truly wish to pull him from that? From the light and fulfillment?"

The woman shakes her head frantically, dripping to her knees, as she lets loose a gut-wrenching wail of pain and fear. Amelia feels for her, though she cannot hold Wy, she drops to her knees as well and makes the gesture for it. Her arms pass through Wy, and the woman feels nothing of it. Moments tick by and they stay together in that manner, with the Spirit attempting to bring some peace to the sorceress before her.

The heady scent of perfume wafts in the air, as Amelia stiffens.

Ancient Yao must have noticed her skull was missing. And, that did not bode well for Wy. Dragons were possessive creatures, even of objects they did not like. No matter how the ancient felt about her, Amelia was still 'his'. Her head turned, noting the glowing honey-brown eyes in the darkness. His skin appeared slightly scalier. He had been prepared to fight Wy, if she had not backed down.

"She did not-"

He held up a hand to stop Amelia's protests. At her master's command, she was forced to fall silent. Wy shrunk in on herself. Looking lost and terrified, rightly so.

Its is gaze that causes the spirit to attempt to block his view of Wy.

"She held intent to resurrect the dead." His glare lands on Amelia as she opens her mouth, though no sound comes forth. He had ordered her to be quiet, and so she must. "That is still a crime against the natural order of the world, and a crime against the magic council."

His words are like growls and Amelia lowers her blue gaze, trying not to feel dread over what Wy's sentence will be.

"Make no Mistake. Wy _will _be punished."

That imaginary lump forms in Amelia's throat again, as she if forced to watch Ancient Yao lead Wy away under magical confinement.

Because that is her cure.

To watch forever and be able to do _nothing._

_OoOoOo_

He comes to collect her skull, but Amelia is too depressed to leave her skull. She shuts herself away.

Sleep.

Or whatever equivalent she can manage. She wants it now. She doesn't want someone to endure her fate. It is far too cruel. The only solace is that Wy did not actually perform any ceremonies prior to Ancient Yao finding them. Perhaps the council would show some mercy to a sorceress that had never crossed the line before. One that had been of use to them not so long ago.

She stays in the hallowed darkness of her own bones, when she feels the light trace of the Ancient's fingers across her skull. The tinge of magic used is meant to summon her. For the first time in over a thousand years, she refuses. Her skull remains impassive. The full set of teeth gave an eerie grin as blank eyesockets stared straight a head.

She is bound to orders, but he has voiced no verbal command.

"Amalia." Ancient Yao says in his cultured tone. The one that he uses when he is the least annoyed with her, or when he is curious and wishes to use her knowledge to research a subject.

She hears him, but does not respond.

"I find that I am curious," the dragon continues as if she had engaged him in conversation. "How is it that you know what paradise was like?"

The spirit turns more attention to her Master, not bothering to make any sign that she is listening.

"After all, your soul was never permitted to cross over after you death. I saw the leader of the House of Cyleaon hold your soul to this plane of existence. Therefore, you should have no concept of the 'light and fulfillment'."

She projects her voice and nothing more.

"I read about it in tomes."

"Which ones?"

"I do not remember."

It is a all she could think to say. She hears the subtle shifting of his silk robes. He draws closer to her skull, and she can sense that he is peering down at it.

"It was a millennia ago."

His finger traces one of her runes again, and the spirit shivers inside herself. The first time she has felt a sensation in so very long. It was as if he was tracing a single finger against her cheek. She can actually feel the heat of his touch. Amelia shrinks back further into her skull, suddenly afraid of the extent of Yao's power.

"You are cursed to never forget," he reminds her with a tone of voice she has never heard from him before. It isn't laced with anger, disgust, or contempt. Nor blatant curiosity. This is far more... intimate.

Arthur used to speak to her in such a tone.

She thinks of his words and pushes away the fissure of concern she feels.

"I have nothing further to say on the matter, Ancient one." Her voice demurs politely.

"Cursed one," He says with far less venom to his words, "of the ritual that put you in this prison of your own bone, what was the third line of summoning a soul back from the beyond?"

If she had been alive, Amelia's breath would have caught in her throat. She searched her memories, but nothing came. She... she...

"Answer me!"

The spirit could not. Nothing would come, though she had been commanded by her Master.

"My Apologies, Ancient-"

"You do not know, do you?" Ancient Yao asked after several seconds of silence passed.

The skull remained mute.

His finger traced over another rune, lighting it in green.

Amelia gasped as a sensation lanced through her very soul. As if the dragon were stroking her arm.

"Answer me with only the truth," The dragon demanded in an even tone. "Did you ever commit the ritual to resurrect the dead."

She tired to fight the command. Her skull rattled under his finger, but Yao grabbed it to keep it from moving over much. Her jaw clenched, as if she were still alive. A magical reflex. Honey-gold eyes watched her. Serpent-like slits formed in the pupils as he waited patiently for her to submit to his command.

And, she did. She lost as the magic compelled her.

"_No."_

Ancient Yao stared at her, his eyes widened briefly, as she could sense his dragon nature coming to the forefront. His skin scaled again, and his teeth lengthened.

"It was Arthur," he breathed out in a half-growl. "that preformed the rituals."

She said nothing. Trembling in her skull as the truth was brought to light some 1200 years later. it did not matter. Even if Yao raged to his full extent, they had sealed Arthur away in paradise. Her love was safe. Away from pain and suffering. Yao could not call him back without violating the same law that Arthur had.

"You were the one that was torn from the other side, weren't you?"

Amelia remained mute.

"Answer me!"

Another command. She tired to resist, but he clutched her closer to him.

"_Yes_." She replied in near agony. She did not want to tell him. Yet, she was forbidden to disobey him.

"You took the punishment for him." The dragon ground out, and she could hear the disbelief in his tone. "You banned yourself from the great Paradise? Why would you do this?"

To him it was unthinkable. To Amelia it had been the only recourse.

"I told you," Amelia said wearily, "My love doomed me."

"Your love?"

"I could not let Arthur... He could not suffer this. I loved him."

Her statement was met with totally silence. and she felt her skull being set down once more on its proper resting place. Reptilian eyes watched her skull carefully, but Amelia felt as if he could see her, even though she had not materialized.

"_Loved_?" Ancient Yao repeats, as a strange look passes over his features.

Amelia truly does not understand dragons.

OoOoOo

He does not return for a period of time. Amelia hardly notices the exact amount. Time has little meaning to her inside her bone prison. She feels the touch of his finger across her runes, and shudders as he commands her from the Skull.

She materializes, looking around and noting that it is the middle of the morning. Her gaze brightens.

Ah, new pupils.

Amelia heads toward the front of the study, taking her usual place, as she waits eagerly with eyes on the door.

Ancient Yao is watching her intently. She blinks at him, confused by the fact he has not insulted her yet. Nor has he made a move to punish her from their last talk.

"Master Yao?" She asks quietly, wondering what is in-store for her now. The dragon has not resorted to physical torture in centuries. At least, not with Amelia directly.

The tips of his fingers glow, and he approaches her skull. Amelia draws back, though it is more because she knows that rushing to stop him will do absolutely nothing. She cannot even touch her own skull. There was nothing she could do to the Ancient.

She closes her eyes and braces her soul for the pain.

However, it does not come.

It is a soft sensation, as if his hand is moving around her waist, and Amelia gasps. Blue eyes open and she looks at him in utter shock. She can feel his magic pulsating into her runes. Touch. She can feel his touch, must stronger now. It has been so long...

The remembrance of arousal courses in her thoughts. She recalls the first time Arthur had touched her-

"Do not think of him," Ancient Yao hisses out angrily, his honeyed-brown eyes are narrowed with both annoyance and...

She blinks, startled to realize that he is affected by this as well. There is hunger in his gaze. She does not know what to say or do in the face of his hunger.

His hand smoothes over the next rune, and it feels like he is caressing her breast.

Amelia gasps, jerking to the side.

"What are you doing?" She questions, trembling in the mental projection of herself.

"You are no longer in love with Arthur." He says by way of explanation, and though his words are true, they sting slightly.

She loved Arthur. She had loved him for centuries, but even her dedication had faded in the flow of time and distance. She would never see him again. If she still possessed a heart, it would have been beating rapidly.

"Good," Yao purred, and she stared at him.

"Can... can you hear my thoughts?" She asked dimly.

The smirk answered her question. Yes, he could hear her now that he was in tune with her -

Pressure on her neck, as if a pair of lips had descended upon the skin. She fought not to shudder once more. It felt so good... to feel again. Without realizing what was happening, she was soon drowning in a tidal wave of lust and barely restrained longing. Somewhere beneath the magic and the whirling thoughts, she recognized that it was not her own.

It was Ancient Yao's.

He _longed _ for her. _Desired_ her.

The question died on her lips, as she felt his hands ghost over body, more feverishly. His fingers remained on her wards, but she could see that his eyes had slid closed in concentration. His presence pushed into her thoughts. Amelia began to breath rapidly, though she had no need of breathing, it was something her spirit still insisted upon doing. A reflex, almost. Or maybe a memory it could not relinquish.

Dragons were possessive. And, every stray thought was linked to claiming Amelia-Amalia, his mind corrected- as his own. She'd been with him for so long, the one constant when all others faded. He was immune to disease and aging. A nearly immortal creature. She was always out of his reach, but just right there. Amalia knew the Ancient had not had a lover in centuries.

She could feel the heat of him, as if he were right behind her. As if the nip of his teeth against her neck were real. The sensation of a hand cupping her breast, as the memories of what she had felt during her time on earth were unleashed. As if the gush of warmth between her thighs was a true event. If touch had been possible, she would have gripped the desk to keep from staggering.

Magic pulsed into her runes once more, and Amelia found herself being drawn somewhere. One moment she was in the study, and the next, she was forest, where Yao had first found her. Amalia could smell the scents of trees, fresh rain, and earth once again. Things she had missed terribly, but had little to time to dwell upon. Her wrists were encircled by the strong and warm hands of Ancient Yao.

She whimpered.

"What is this?" She asked, feeling the heavy sensation of breathing again. She was in awe of it all.

"A mental construct of mine." Yao replied in a sinful whisper against her ear.

She could feel him at her back, hard muscle and warmth. She missed warmth so much. A soft moan escaped her as his fingers lingered over her nipple, pinching it lightly, despite the fabric that barred him access to her skin. She could feel it all. After being denied touch for so long, each stroke of his fingers was pure heaven as it was hell.

"This isn't r-real," Amalia tried to sway away from him, but Yao would have none of it. He pulled her back against him with a slight growl, as he ground something hard against her backside.

She had not been with a lover...

In a longer time than Ancient Yao.

She was torn, wanting him to stop, but held captive by the fact that she could _feel _him.

"It is very real to us," The dragon murmured as he continued to stoke a fire within her. Amalia arched, her body was trying to bury itself into Yao's hands. He cupped her breast, massaging it, as her legs parted slightly. As if her body could not welcome him fast enough. She knew of the cruelty of Ancient Yao, but she had never known the tenderness he showed her now.

There was no pain, only the explosion of pleasure everywhere he touched. An echoing sense of relief emanated from Yao. After all, it was nearly impossible for one such as he to find a mate. Now that he knew the truth about what Amalia had done, he had permitted long buried emotions for her to the surface. She was worthy of being a mate now. Yao... had been just as lonely as she was. He was bound by his oath to help the magical council for as long as it existed, and she was bound to him. There was pure satisfaction and ecstasy from the sense of ownership. As was the way of Dragons. Fiercely loyal to their ideals and what belonged to them.

She need not ask, for she could sense it, that he would be far more protective of her now. If she permitted him to mate with her. Amalia did tremble then, want and arousal and excitement were coursing through her. The urge to no longer be alone combined with his skilled touches were quickly dismantling her defenses. She shouldn't want him so much, but she did. Part of it truly was her.

He made a noise of approval as his other hand moved toward her hip, it bunched up the long fabric of her dress. It was far less fine than his. Amalia was still easily pleased at heart. Though Arthur had wanted to shower her in finery, she had often refused. The Spirit could sense that Yao wanted much the same. Her normal apparel seemed to shift out of place, and a soft silk rustled against her skin.

Some of it was still bunched in his hand, as he pinned the fabric to her hip with his arm, and slid his hand toward her nether region. On instinct she clamped her thighs closed. But, she was not quick enough. She bit back an oath as his fingers dipped into her womanhood. The evidence of her arousal was painfully obvious. The low and animalistic rumble in his chest had her quivering in new places as another rush of heat pooled between her legs.

"Ancient-"

"丈夫"

Her fogged mind could not think upon the strange word he uttered. It did not sound magical in context it-

_Husband_.

The word resounded in her mind akin to a shout. He was telling her what it meant. She had dreamed once, of marrying. Of children and a life that could never be hers now.

She felt a rush of bittersweet longing for the possibility of even matrimony. Yao said nothing further, nor did he press her thoughts. He was preoccupied with memorizing every inch of her body. Amalia let out a slight breath, a cross between a hiss and a groan of approval. Even as his other hand slid into her dress. Skin upon skin contact that was nearly too much for Amalia. She leaned back against him, trusting somewhere deep inside herself, that he would not let her fall. It was all so hot. The warmth was intoxicating, as was the scent of incense on his skin. Just as it had been so very long ago.

The first time she had met him.

The image flashed in her mind for a split second. The awe she had felt for him then, the way he seemed different in her memory, though he had not changed physically since. She sensed the change in his hands then. His skin scaled slightly, and his nails elongated. As it became harder to hold onto his human form. His arousal was so high. Amalia moaned as he carefully rubbed at the pearl between her nether lips.

Pleasure. He wanted her to know pleasure by his hands. He wanted her to agree.

"Do you submit to me?" He asked gutturally, his voice was sheer seduction and promises of reaching ecstasy.

Amalia swallowed, thoughts jumbling, but the intense waves of sensation were not abating. Her body was tightening like a bow string, ready to snap at any moment and hurl her into the peak of pleasure.

She could refuse him. She knew that, from his thoughts. No repercussions would be shown for this. It was not Yao's way. But she would never feel this again. She needed to feel him.

"Say the words," he growled lowly, his breath hot as it fanned her neck. She closed her eyes, reveling in the sensations of all around her. He needed her to say them.

She wet her lips, parting them with a bit of uncertainty.

"I...I... yield."

Yao's euphoria was astounding as he seemed to bask in her agreement. Amalia hardly had time to process that she was being laid upon the grass. The cool beneath her body was a bliss she hadn't felt in ages. Such simple pleasures-

"Focus on me," Yao half-snarled with narrowed reptilian eyes. Dragons were such jealous creatures. He wanted her undivided attention, and he wanted it now. His lips descended upon hers.

There was no battle for dominance, she let him have it. Responding to the way his warm tongue slid across hers. The pressure of his mouth upon her as she arched up toward him. Seeking more contact, more sensation. The gentle breeze whipped across her body, it fluttered Yao's hair and that hair tickled her cheek slightly. It all felt so real. His hands parted her thighs, and he reared back.

It allowed her a moment to realize her state of undress with her bodice opened, and the hem of her gown around her waist. She felt vulnerable, and small compared to the sight above her. His brown eyes were glowing as he stared directly into her blue orbs. She could see the scales around his eyes and cheeks. He was breath-taking. He was magicl incarnate in that moment. And, his mind oculd sense her praise and he basked in it.

She felt the hard length of his manhood against her thigh and jolted slightly. Could a human and a dragon...?

He smirked at her stray question, amused as he nudged her thighs slightly more apart. Ancient Yao carefully removed the binding around his waist, and parted his own robes, allowing her to catch sight of his nude form. Amalia blushed, feeling the heat upon her cheeks. Her core throbbed in anticipation. She wanted to feel him, all of him. In ways she had not felt since her curse.

Yao made a slight hiss of pleasure as he aligned himself with her entrance. He barred his teeth, in a manner that nearly intimidated her.

_No turning back._

With a single push, he was sheathed inside her to the hilt. Amalia gasped, clutching at him. A plaintive wail of desire burned on her lips. Yao nipped at her neck again, moving inside her slickness with abandon. She moaned and twisted underneath him. There was not a smidgen of discomfort, only the feeling of him. Everywhere. All around her. Inside her.

Yes, oh yes. The _feeling_ of him. Blue eyes clouded with rapture as she was claimed beneath the shade of the very trees where she first met him.

OoOoOo

The young mages walked in, glancing around the vast study with curious gazes. All of which landed upon the famed 'Amelia' who stood frozen without expression on her face.

One child nudged the other, and they noticed that Ancient Yao was holding onto the skull with a look of deep concentration.

Quizzical minds briefly wondered if they were meditating, and how much longer they would be.


End file.
